“But the heat…”
“Sirocco coming. Doctor Mattieux put a note on the board.”
“Ah. I hope this one is short.”
“They are sometimes the strongest.”
“How the last one screamed, you remember? How that sand can scream.”
“You have pinched the curtain in the window.”
“Oh. Why are you strapping him?”
“Mattieuxs order. He has been too restless.”
“Perhaps he wants to wake up?”
“In the meantime the straps, so he cannot cut himself on the needle.”
“Why doesn’t Mattieux wake him up? Perhaps just a little ammonia, perhaps no more and he would wake up.”
“Doctor Mattieux said, perhaps he is in this coma because he needs to be.”
“You know, Renee, he doesn’t look gentle today. He looks very much as if he were suffering.”
They watched how he tried to turn in his sleep…
He did not dream of the good times, the times when he had reached out and touched success; only the failures became important. He didn’t dream how he had gone ahead and split the organization right down the middle, the sweet sight of the power running right out of Ryder’s hands, the sweet sight of Ryder himself full of threatening talk, sweet silence from Ryder while he, Quinn, felt the better man, because he was worse than Ryder.
He dreamt how he tried to turn in his bed and couldn’t.
“Who in hell…”
“Lie still.”
“That’s all right,” said another voice from across the dark room. “Let him get up. So he’ll know.”
Quinn knew who it was even before he was out of the bed and before he could see well enough. He said, “Ryder, you son of a bitch! Ah, there’s two more? The strong arm? You don’t think…”
“I don’t have to, Quinn, and as for you, it won’t do you any good.”
“You have those goons lay a hand on me, Ryder, and you think I don’t have the set-up to make you float down the river by six in the morning?”
“Tut, tut, such violence. Show him, Jimmy.”
There were, after all, two of them and they hadn’t just woken up. They got him without a punch. A silent, panting affair. A wrestler. Not one punch but all wrestler, and the other one could murder me any place, any way, with his buddy’s grip crippling me out of shape. And he’s just standing there, doing what “Ryder, listen to me. I’ve got a call coming in, five in the morning, and if I don’t answer…”
“I’m not interested, Quinn. Whyn’t you watch what he’s doing?”
What is he doing? — Ryder wiping his sloppy mouth, the gorilla behind me not moving a muscle and neither can I, and the other-knife? No. Fountain pen? I should sign them a document?
“I left standing orders, Ryder, I told you once, that should I get roughed up…”
“No violence, Quinn. Look.”
Damn, this grip on my back, my arms like worms, and the waiting, the waiting, and why don’t you hit-ah, the other one heard me think, coming over “Ryder, for God’s sake-”
“Doesn’t hurt, Quinn. Just a little sting.”
And the man comes over and carries the syringe and a needle. A small, cold-looking thing like that and I’ve never been so scared in my life.
“Ryder, what in hell- ”
“No violence, Quinn, nothing like it. But you’ll end up a changed man.”
“Where’ll I put it?” said the one with the needle.
“Any place. What’s the difference?”
“Come on already,” said the one holding Quinn doubled over. “He’s trying to struggle or something.”
“Ryder! What is it? ”
“Trip around the world for you, Quinn. In a coffin. Ever hear of the method?”
“My God, Ryder-”
“You’ll be a changed man, Quinn. Maybe a better one. Give it to him, Jimmy.”
Ryder, for heaven’s sake-and I didn’t even feel it, didn’t feel anything at the start of such an important-Letting go of me now? You let go too soon. Watch what I mean by you let go too soon-too thick this air, too thick in the brain, but you, Ryder, I get you, don’t float away, Ryder, oh my God please don’t leave…
“How he sweats.”
“But he’s lying still now. Put the fan in the door, Marie.”
“Mercy, how that sirocco screams.”
“Not yet, really. It will get worse…”
Dead. Dead? Nonsense. I wouldn’t ask if I were. But this nonsense of not knowing what’s up or down. Drug in the head explains it, explains everything. Yes. Feeling fine. Feel fine with gray cotton inside of me and black cotton outside of me. Ah, not cotton at all but space to move. Black space to move. Closet? Of course, of course. Everything else is pure nonsense. For the moment I can only remember sheer nonsense. Everything will be all right- all right! There must be a door, must- I must stop screaming Fine now. At the bottom of panic it is very quiet. No, no. There is no need to move. Careful now, leisurely so as not to frighten. I am not frightened. I can say it. Say box. You see? Since box, by any other name, still makes no sense-Easy, please, please And I remember as a matter of fact that a Seventeenth-Century nobleman who had displeased his king was made to spend nine, was it nine? Was made to spend all those years in a cage, having fewer conveniences, fewer water cans. I am sure, no little cabinets full of provisions, no little pills. And for example once a child was found in a closet without light, the child moon- white and lemur-eyed, but it got out! Got Out! Got to get out!
— How dull inside my head. But better this way, much better and thank you, little pill. And though dull, I will check again, check the entire universe, all the cans, all the boxes in boxes what blessed certainty One, two, three, five… Watch it.
One two, two, three… No! I insist on the right count, left count, right, twoop, threep, foa, one twoop, rip, rip to pieces, I am ripping apart!
— And cannot stand the screaming any more, I can’t any more, can’t, though wish I were more tired. Dead tired. No! Don’t go out! Please, little flame, don’t go out! And please stay little inside your egg and then sometime when it cracks, little flame, you can leap more-Crack? Wait! Don’t go out, little flame, jump a little Jump, little one, JUMP!
“Call Doctor Mattieux! Quick!”
“What is it?”
“He’s violent! Call Mattieux!”
And then Renee, the older nurse, waited for the doctor. She had prepared the morphine injection, but when Doctor Mattieux finally arrived, he decided, no, I think this time we shall let him be awake.
Chapter 4
Three days after Quinn woke up, Whitfield came to see him in the hospital. Things had been a little unusual- the sirocco, for instance, and a great deal of dull time with no dock work possible-and therefore Whitfield walked carefully with a three-day hangover. He felt that he carried it very well and only hoped that Quinn would not be difficult.
“Is he ready?” he asked the nurse in the corridor.
She said he was ready and that his clothes would be brought into his room. Then Whitfield went to see Quinn.
Whitfield, of course, did not recognize him. Only Quinn’s hair, which was thick and black, seemed familiar.
